Page 34 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“Stoppen! Dorthin darf man nicht gehen!”A male voice hollered. Glancing back toward the entrance, a German soldier stared at them, his eyes wide and a wild, almost evil expression moving over his face.

The soldier’s declaration to stop and that they should not be there fell on deaf ears. Cyran narrowed his gaze and muttered the door’s counterspell.

“That which is visible, hide for me.

Cast the spell, hide the key.

Hinder their vision. Help us flee.”

The soldier’s stiff body relaxed, his flushed face disappearing as he frowned at what he thought was the wall in front of him. Raising his arm, his hand patted the illusion of stone, and he shook his head. He stepped back as if leaving but gave the wall another confused glance as he walked back down the hall.

Shalendra chuckled. “A few humans have a sixth sense. You know your spell will bother that poor soldier for some time?”

“Couldn’t be helped. The last thing we need is to have all the soldiers in this place chasing after us. Cyran’s hand wrapped around Shalendra’s slender biceps, pulling her onto the stair landing behind him.

“You’re good with spells. I’ve never been able to get the hang of them—probably why I’m not very good at magic…or being an elf.”

Turning, he shook his head. “Don’t. Your father did not teach you what you needed to know, so that is on him. You are a quick learner, and I would be honored to help you learn a few basic incantations to jumpstart your education.”

She smiled up at him. “Really?” He gave her a crooked smile, mesmerized by the light shining in her eyes, and nodded. “Thank you.” Not knowing what to say, he started down the stairway.

“Where do you think this leads?” Her breathy voice washed over him, calming some of the building anxiety as he neared what he hoped was Haman’s domain.

“Nowhere good,” he truthfully answered. The soles of his boots touched the uneven rock at the bottom of the stairs; the hurried chisel marks a testament to the rushed speed at which the tunnel had been carved out.

A tug on his arm stopped him from moving forward, and he turned as Shalendra pulled her hand from his and stared up at him. Her head tilted to one side as her narrowed gaze studied him, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.

“Before we go any further, I need to know why you are doing this. Why do you seem so driven? You believe you will discover something about your stepfather, correct?” He gave her a single nod. “Then why do I detect something more? Almost like a compulsion to find him. Why, Cyran? What are you not telling me?”

He pressed his lips together, torn between telling her the truth and not wanting her to look at him differently. He liked her open gaze, filled with friendship and a little more. No one had ever looked at him like that. While he did not want to delve deeper into whatever it meant, he liked it all the same. Maybe he liked it too much because he could not get her out of his mind, which was not like him.

At a very young age, his stepfather taught him the importance of building walls around himself. Cyran had always found a way to sidestep people, especially those who got too close, even the twins, who had gotten the closest.

He never had to worry about Lamruil, who never pushed him for more. Ailuin always pushed. He was the one Cyran had used to perfect how to keep anyone at a distance. Until this young, beautiful elf entered his life. Did he dare tell her more?

“Cyran, I understand what it’s like to feel insecure. Not to be able to trust others with my innermost secrets. I was born the daughter of two very powerful beings and the granddaughter of one of the most notorious gods ever known.

She hesitated but only for a moment. “You have already heard about my heartfelt secret—my shame. I do have a power inside of me that I am terrified of and refuse to let out. If Freyja and Idunn believe this power will help free my aunt and uncle, I will face my fears and wield it. You, on the other hand, know your strengths and abilities. I cannot imagine this being your issue, but I am willing to listen. I want to help you. Please let me.”

She stepped closer, almost toe to toe, and placed both hands on his crossed arms, gently squeezing his muscles. “I do not have the power of foresight, but I know that our greatest strength as a team is trusting in each other. Please trust me enough to open your mind. Help me understand why you are so driven in this search and what it has to do with finding my aunt and uncle.”

He ran his fingers through his hair in a rare show of emotion, sending the long strands in disarray over his shoulders. He reeled in his frustration and annoyance at not being able to stop Haman or, if he were being truthful with himself, enacting revenge upon the man who had killed his beloved mother.

Haman’s hand had not wielded a knife or similar weapon, but he had been the catalyst, nonetheless. It had been his depravity and meanness that had worn down his mother, dimming her internal light and goodness until she had been but a shell of her former self. Dare he trust Shalendra?

“Cyran?” Shalendra’s soft voice pulled him out of the cesspit of dark emotion and turmoil that seemed to eat at him from the inside out. “You cannot do this alone. Please, let me help you.”

Inhaling a deep breath, he smelled the stench of death, but overriding even that horror was Shalendra’s cleansing scent of lavender and sunshine—the freshness of the forest after a soft rain shower. His heart lightened as it washed through him, allowing him to separate himself from those fierce emotions, even if only for a short time.

“I mentioned my stepfather—of my…disdain, for lack of a better word. He was supposed to be our healer, but it was by his hand the war progressed, and millions of Elfkind were butchered. Haman was the driving force behind the demon controlling the never-ending battle. I recently discovered he still is.”

He stepped back, but like a choreographed dance, she moved with him, her footsteps following his. Instead of letting go, he found himself threading his fingers through hers, her soft skin touching his. Her warmth filled him, giving him the strength to voice the secret he had never told another soul.

“I tricked Haman and sent him into a spelled slumber, a sleeping stasis that imprisoned him in his lab for the last five hundred years. Now that you know, he will hunt you down as well. In trusting you with my dark secret, I have signed your death warrant.”

He thought he would have felt some relief at voicing his deepest shame, but instead, his fear grew to include this innocent elf woman. He pulled his hand from hers, his forward steps heavy as he moved farther along the tunnel.

Her knowledge of his evil deed had placed her in the path of his stepfather’s retribution. And, if he knew anything about Haman, he would never stop until he had destroyed them both.

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